


The Lancelot of The Revolutionary Set

by anotherfngrl



Series: The Alexander Hamilton D/s Verse [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Flirty Marquis de Lafayette, M/M, Multi, Pansexual Marquis de Lafayette, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Pre-Canon, Switch John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherfngrl/pseuds/anotherfngrl
Summary: Lafayette was the first Non-dynamic person Alexander Hamilton had ever met.He was the first one Lafayette had met, himself.OrThe making of the Lancelot of the Revolutionary Set, and the Revolutionary Set itself- how Lafayette figured out he was Non-dynamic and made himself a family.**If you haven't read the D/s verse, this will make sense, just know it takes place within a larger D/s universe.**
Relationships: Aaron Burr/John Laurens, Adrienne de Lafayette/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan, John Laurens & Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan
Series: The Alexander Hamilton D/s Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919644
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Gilbert

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to play around with Laf's background, as well as how he, Herc, and John became such good friends before Alex arrived in America. This is that fic.
> 
> ALSO: I want to do an advent prompt list within this verse. Short one shots. I'll take any character/ pair or pairing of characters, and a word or phrase prompt! Feel free to prompt more than one, and I'll get to as many things as I can during December!

Lafayette still remembers the first time he'd thought about his orientation. He'd been seven, sneaking downstairs to beg the au pair for one more story before bed, when he'd overheard his parents.

"He's obviously a Dom," his mother had insisted. "He's such a little leader on the playground with the other children. And he's so brave! Anyway, all of the men in my family are Doms."

"But he's so sensitive. So careful with the little ones at church. One of the youngest boys in his group fell down last Sunday, and Gil sat with him and told him stories until he stopped crying. He's so nurturing, even this young. And so dramatic," Papa adds with a laugh. "I think he'll turn out to be a submissive."

"Or maybe a little of each. A switch. That would be convenient- leave him to marry any girl he loves," Mama had mused. "It would be okay, if he turned out that way."

But Gilbert didn't turn out to be anything at all, and none of them quite knew what to do with that.

At first, they all assumed he was a late bloomer. It's not like anyone woke up one day with a tattoo of their orientation. It generally became obvious during puberty, but that could be a wide range of ages.

Still, Gilbert got taller, his voice deepened, and he grew a beard, and they still couldn't tell.

He left his hair long. Not because he was playing at submission or hedging his bets on being a switch, but because he liked the way the curls bounced. He pulled them back when they got in the way. Facial hair hadn’t been a standard orientation marker for nearly a hundred years, as people started to truly accept that orientation did not and had never followed the gender binary. So he wore his ponytail and began to grow his beard, and no one quite knew what to expect.

Gil wasn’t worried- he’d figure it out, eventually, he was sure. His parents, on the other hand, continued to fret. One day, he overheard his parents arguing.

“He’s just a late bloomer, Marie. He’ll be fine,” Papa insisted, as he always did.

“You want him to be commissioned,” Maman accused.

“It’s a family tradition, dear.” Papa was proud of their family’s history of military service. Gilbert was, too, and he was eager to serve.

“What if he realizes he’s a sub, living surrounded by Dominant soldiers? Will he make good choices? What will happen to him? I just want him to be safe,” she had lamented.

“We have to keep him safe without keeping him sheltered. The boy is about to be fifteen, Marie. Usually, men in our family are commissioned at thirteen,” Papa had pleaded with her.

“I want to serve,” Gilbert had said, stepping into the parlor. His mother’s eyes got wide, and he quickly clarified, “In the Army. I’m not saying I…”

And so he’d been commissioned, and sent to officer training. He’d been studying tactics since he was a child, and he picked them up easily. But without a firm orientation, the French military leaders were reluctant to place him with a command.

Gil continued studying, learning what strategy he could. Then, his parents died, and suddenly there was no one to care what he was, anymore.

France in the late 1700’s was a time of enlightenment and change. Beliefs about monarchy, about social class, were disintegrating. Beliefs about orientation were, too. It became popular to refuse to declare one’s orientation. Some young people even cut their hair in half cropped, half long styles, to further confuse anyone attempting to make assumptions.

Lafayette did not shave any part of his hair. He did wear it in braids sometimes, held close to his skull on one side if not all over- a Dom in silhouette, a sub in length. And he decided his orientation was never going to hit him like a bolt of lightning, and set out to try to figure it out for himself.

There were plenty of other young people willing to have sex with a boy who wouldn’t declare his orientation, and Gil enjoyed himself thoroughly. He had plenty of non-dynamic sex with young men and women, and he discovered he was quite good at it. He could usually tell his partner’s orientation, though many people asked him about his own afterwards.

He quickly realized non-dynamic sex was a kink for many of his classmates and friends- something taboo and interesting to indulge in. Gil had sex with plenty of people unwilling to admit their orientation, but never with anyone else like himself, who didn’t seem to express one, even in the throes of passion.

He decided to experiment. He found himself on either side of the whip, or the cuffs. He brought a pretty submissive girl to mewling orgasm over and over until she shook apart in his bed one night, then laid prettily across the same sheets while a kind, quiet Dominant boy tied him up and edged him for what seemed like the entire night. He enjoyed it all, but he didn’t feel a particular affinity for any part of it.

Gil entertained the idea that he might be a switch. Perhaps he couldn’t pick because he enjoyed both. He spoke to some switches he knew, but they all talked about ‘feeling’ one side of themselves or another at a given moment. He had one regular sex partner who had initially claimed to be without dynamic but eventually admitted to being a switch.

She was beautiful and overwhelming. And Gilbert may not have known what he was, but he knew he loved Adrienne. Soon, he ceased his experimentation entirely to have more time to spend with her. He could feel the difference in her body, from one night to the next. Some nights, she crackled with energy and power, even if she never actually gave him a command. Others, she was sweet and pliable in his arms, soft even if he never asked her to submit.

Gilbert felt no such dichotomy. He liked people. Liked making them feel good. He enjoyed wrapping his hands around Addy’s wrists to hold her still as he brought her to climax because she enjoyed it. He enjoyed lying under her attempting to keep his hips still as she rode him on other nights for the same reason. It wasn’t a mood for him, to do one or the other. It was a constant desire to find what would drive his partner mad with pleasure.

Gil asked Addy about what it was like being a switch a lot. One day, while they were eating breakfast in a small cafe, she said, “Gil, I don’t think you are.”

“I’m not… what? I assure you, my dear, I am very real. And very here. Oh, I know! You’ve been reading Descartes, and this is a joke at the expense of my intellect. Beneath you, my love,” Gil had teased her.

“I don’t think you’re a switch. It’s not… fluid, like it is for you. I could ask you to tie me up or let me blindfold you at any moment, and you’d be down for either. That’s not being a switch- it’s right there in the name. I switch between ways of being,” Adrienne had explained. “Different things make me feel different ways.”

“Then what am I?” Gil asked, feeling lost. He’d thought he’d finally figured it out, and found a compatible partner. He’d been thrilled to know who he was at last.

“You’re Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. You’re the man I love. What does it matter if there’s not a label for you?” Adrienne had asked, wrapping a hand over his on the table.

“Because they want a label, to put me in command of a unit. If I cannot give them one, they will never give me soldiers,” Gil had lamented.

“Screw them. You’re always talking about seeing the world, and changing it. Why don’t you do that? Travel? Find a cause, take it up, and change the world. See if you find your answers there. And if you don’t, come back to me, and we’ll get married,” Adrienne suggested.

“What if my answer is that whatever I am, I am yours?” he’d asked.

“Then let’s get married before you leave.”

So they did.

Gilbert was deliriously happy with Adrienne. She loved him for who he was, transcending all labels of dynamic or status. They kept her flat in Versailles, but made eventual plans to move to his family estate, after he’d taken his trip.

She still insisted that Gil needed to be really sure he’d learned everything he needed to know about himself. She saw the way it gnawed at him, not knowing. She promised that whatever answers he brought back, she’d be waiting, and she’d be his.

The commanders were very confused to hear that he had a wife, but still no orientation. They asked him if he was sure. If maybe he was ashamed because he was submissive. Having an earnest conversation with the Marquis de Ruffec, a serious, imposing man, about strength in submission and there being nothing wrong with his orientation, whatever it was, was a disorienting experience. Still, Lafayette told them truthfully that he had no orientation he’d ever been able to discover.

That left them at an impasse. Based on his standing, both by birth and by marriage, he’d continued to rise through the ranks without an actual command or post. He was made a General, but still given no men to command.

“I could do it,” he told Adrienne, furious. “What I do in the bedroom has no bearing on my skill as a leader. They only want to keep me close incase I am not Dominant enough to inspire respect in my men.”

“You’re more than capable of inspiring respect, Gil. Orientation or no. Resign your commission, if they won’t let you do anything with it,” Addy suggested.

He went to the commanders to do just that. He was shocked by what Ruffec proposed instead.

“We have not forgotten the Seven Years War. And Britain is poised to lose the land they fought us for, to their own colonists, no less. I do not know the dispensation of these colonists, but I think it would be worth examining. Go, as a General in the French Army. As an interested party and, if they are worthy, an advisor. We cannot send them soldiers without sparking war, but we can send them leadership. Much of their experienced forces seem poised to remain loyal to the crown of George III,” Ruffec counseled him.

George III had, Lafayette remembered, been responsible for the previous Marquis de Ruffec’s death. No wonder his son was eager to provide aide to the upstart colonists who were poised to humiliate him.

And truly, the nascent American Revolution was a cause Lafayette could see himself supporting. He’d already read about it, and he thought the natural rights of man certainly extended to leadership of their own land and people. He was interested to see how the American colonists would go about achieving their goals.

Adrienne agreed it was a good idea, and so Gilbert kissed her goodbye and took a ship to the colonies. A colonial businessman was informed of his journey, someone who had had many dealings in France over the years. The man was loyal to the revolutionaries and promised to ensure his introductions into colonial society.

And so Lafayette left his wife and his country behind, a military strategist who had never commanded a military force sent across the ocean to lead farmers and shopkeepers in a war against colonial oppression.

His wife celebrated his journey. She assured him that she understood he might be gone for several years, and that she would happily wait for him. But, she insisted, he needed to find what companionship he could in the colonies, and see if there were stones he’d left unturned.

He would not, Gilbert insisted, leave his wife alone for years to pass her time in isolation while he found companionship at every turn. She promised to take a lover if she felt herself moved to, and they even picked out a companion for her in an old friend, Diane.

Diane, like Adrienne, was a switch. She was married to an unimaginative submissive man who absolutely did not want to be dominated by a wife, but had no dominant instincts himself. Before either of them were married, Diane and Gilbert had enjoyed a passionate fling, and she turned out to enjoy herself with Adrienne even more.

The three of them even fell into bed together, and for the first time, Gilbert understood why switches had gotten their name. Both girls were feeling Dominant, the first night they’d shared a bed. Gil had hung back, watching them scrap for dominance with biting kisses, rolling around on the bed until Adrienne’s back arched against the mattress and she yielded. The switch had been flipped, and for the remainder of the encounter she was submissive and sweet. Gil found himself eager to tease that sweetness from her, and at the same time he greatly enjoyed following Diane’s instructions to bring them all pleasure.

He straddled the line, but it wasn’t either/or. Not for Gil. It was all pleasure. And pleasure it was- they all slept until lunchtime the next day, when Gil finally climbed out of bed and into breeches to fetch them all something to eat and drink.

“I suppose I leave you in capable hands,” he’d told Adrienne while they all lazed around in the big bed.

“We’ll be alright. You’ll return to me when you can. And remember, my darling- I trust you implicitly. Do what feels right to you in the moment- I’ve never seen your instincts steer you wrong,” she’d counseled him. So Gil had gone to America.


	2. Laf and John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lafayette arrives in America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And The Revolutionary Set are begun!!! I love them all so much.
> 
> Also, I'm doing an advent wheel and writing mini fic every day in December. PLEASE prompt me something D/s verse- I'm taking character, combo of characters, pairing, or pairing plus, and any vaguely holiday or winter themed prompt! Like:  
> Alex + Washington Silent Night  
> Alex/Aaron Hot cocoa   
> (Both of those are already on the list!)  
> I'll take stuff that works with established in verse relationships or characters/pairingd you just want to see in this verse! (Also, the prompt list needs more Maria, just saying!)

Gil had many hopes for America on the journey over. He hoped it would be a place where the revolutionary ideas of man (or woman) and his rights would be put to the test. He hoped it would be a place where he could use his training to truly make a difference, whatever his orientation. And while he no longer expected to wake up one morning and suddenly have a dynamic, a part of him even hoped to find, among these revolutionary colonists, some hint as to why he was so different.

When he stepped off the boat into America, to find his contact Henry Laurens had sent his son, John, up to New York to meet him on his behalf, Lafayette’s instincts told him this was a man worth savoring.

John was a switch like Adrienne, but sharp where she’d been soft, rough where she’d been silky smooth. They’d fallen into bed together his first night in America, and as they laid there afterwards, John asked a question Gil had heard so many times before.

“So, what are you?” John asked him, propping himself up on one elbow. “I couldn’t pin it down.”

“I am a fan of the face you make when I make you come,” Gil had told him, dodging the question.

“Come on, Laf! No judgement here. Whatever you are, your orientation doesn’t control you, and anyone who thinks it does is an asshole!” John sat up, impassioned.

“Well then that is good, because, you see, I do not have one,” Lafayette had confessed.

“You don’t have an orientation? How does that even work?” At least John sounded curious, not repulsed. Still, Lafayette sighed quietly, sure this would be the last time he enjoyed the bright young man’s company in such a way.

“I am non-dynamic. I like sex, I like people, and I like giving them what they like. I have absolutely no interest in the constraints of the dynamic spectrum,” Lafayette had told him seriously. “And now, I suppose you must take your leave?”

They’re in the master bedroom of the house Lafayette had rented, sight unseen, from across the ocean. He’s sure John won’t want to stay the night, now that he knows.

“I didn’t exactly secure lodgings for while I’m in the city. I mean, I didn’t expect to end up in your bed, but I’d kind of planned on staying with you and spending a few days showing you around the colonies,” John confesses, cheeky. Then he frowns. “Unless I’ve offended you?”

“Non,” Lafayette assures him. “I am not offended. Only uncertain as to whether you would choose to remain in my bed, knowing what you do about me.”

John rolls over, pinning Lafayette’s hips between his knees. “Yeah,” he says, smiling wolfishly, “I think I’d like to stay.”

He and John make no promises, but stay John Laurens does. He sends for some of his things from South Carolina and Gilbert gives him a bedroom and becomes accustomed to answering to ‘Laf’, John’s chosen nickname for him. They discuss the coming revolution at length, planning for the day it will happen for real.

One day, John goes out to a Sons of Liberty event, while Lafayette stays home, not in the mood for company. The next morning, Laf meets Hercules Mulligan over breakfast.

Lafayette is surprised- John had certainly seemed to be feeling Dominant the night before, and yet the man he’s brought home is undoubtedly a Dom as well. He raises this question to John, who explains, “Sometimes it’s fun, to tussle with another Dominant type.”

“So two people who are feeling Dominant can… without one of them submitting?” Lafayette asks, intrigued.

“Yeah. It’s fun. I could invite him over again, I’m pretty sure he’d be up for showing you,” John offers casually.

“Really?” Gilbert asks, surprised. He’d been warned that America was founded by Puritans and prudes, and that he should not expect the easygoing sexual encounters he’d enjoyed in France among souch people. He is not finding that to be the case.

Gilbert spends more than one enjoyable night caught between the two men as they struggle for Dominance. Somehow, both of them are okay with him not competing along with them, but also not being willing to submit. They enjoy themselves thoroughly in all combinations, including on days when John is feeling a bit more submissive.

One day, they go to pick Hercules up for dinner and Gilbert overhears the way his landlady yells at her husband at all hours and the noise from the pub underneath, and he suddenly realizes it isn't only their late night trysts that have his friend looking so tired. John reports that it’s always that noisy, having spent the night when they were both completely wasted once, and so Gilbert offers the tailor’s apprentice a bedroom of his own.

“It is not a relationship or a promise of exclusivity. It is merely a place to live among friends and compatriots, where we might all rest secure that those under this roof are our brothers-in-arms,” Lafayette tells him.

Hercules moves in, which means they both have front row seats when John decides to take a few classes at Princeton and meets Aaron Burr. The Dom courts John with Old World manners and grace, and they sit back and laugh at the absurdity of it, but their laughter dies down to pleased smiles as John lights up shyly under the attention.

John does not share either of their beds while he’s dating Aaron. Burr is not, he explains to the other two, like Adrienne- happy for Gil to be happy, however that happens. He’s not possessive, but he is a big fan of decorum, and he’d be horrified by the idea of an open relationship. John offers to move out.

Gilbert is appalled and furious, and doesn’t speak to him for three days. Eventually, Hercules seeks him out in the garden.

“He’s packing up his stuff, you know,” he says by way of greeting.

“Apparently, we are not worth having if we are not sexual partners. I suppose he will move in with his Aaron.” Gil spits the name.

“No, I think he’s talking about getting rooms of his own. Definitely not living with Burr. He says the guy would give a butler hives with his particularity. But he’s pretty sure you don’t want him here anymore,” Hercules explains.

“Yes, I have heard. If sexual services are off the menu, there is no point for John to remain and endure our company,” Lafayette sniffs, hurt and offended.

“You two are ridiculous. John wanted to make sure he wasn’t taking advantage. I don’t think he actually expected you to take him up on it. And now you’re in this snit, like he’s said he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore just because he’s dating someone new. And you’re ignoring him to the point that he thinks his worst fears are coming true, and you really don’t want him around if you can’t have him in bed. You two need to actually talk, or I’m going to handcuff you together one of these days before I leave for work,” Hercules threatens. He is the only one of the three of them with a reliable work schedule, and Gilbert fully believes that he will follow through on his threat.

He returns indoors, deciding the best way to reopen communication is indirectly. "I feel like cooking tonight," he informs Hercules.

"You? Cooking actual food? Not warming something Mary left?" Herc asks, surprised. Generally, their day girl prepares a few meals for the week and they eat out the rest of the time.

"I am French, mon ami. I can cook. It is practically hard wired," he assures Hercules. "Tell John he is invited to join us." Lafayette shudders as he adds, "If he has plans with his Aaron, he may dine as well."

Then he attacks the larders. The trouble is that there is very little in the way of ingredients in the larder, Mary having not anticipated this particular flight of fancy of his when she did the shopping. Tomorrow is shopping day, so they've got only a few staples- bread, eggs, milk, some of the ham they have at breakfast occasionally, and of course brie, because he refuses to be without. Also the staple coffee, tea, and sugar.

Lafayette looks at his ingredients with concern. It's late afternoon- markets are closing or closed, and he needs to have a meal ready soon. Mary has already gone for the day, so he cannot ask her advice. He runs through the things he knows how to make with the ingredients before him. Pain perdu is the first thing he thinks of, but besides being a breakfast food, it is the kind of dish he imagines Burr will turn his nose up at, if he joins them. Picking a fight with John's annoying boyfriend will not help him break the ice.

Though… presentation is everything. Perhaps if he gets creative, he can make the simple meal look gourmet and inviting. He's got a plan forming when the kitchen door swings open.

"I hear you're cooking dinner," John Laurens says.

"I am indeed. Will you be gracing us with your presence?" he asks, resenting his abrupt tone as soon as he's spoken.

John falters. "I s'pose I've got to, just for the show," he says, but the teasing feels forced.

"Will your Aaron be in attendance as well?" Lafayette asks, struggling to keep his tone neutral.

"He's studying," John says. "He's always studying."

Gil barely bites back a scathing remark about why John is so eager to throw them off for a man more interested in books than him, but it's a close thing. He decides that maybe he should work a bit harder at calming down before he talks to John. Hercules seems sure the other man doesn't want to quit their friendship, but Gil is feeling too raw not to lash out a little.

"Let the master work. I will have dinner in just an hour or so. Go! Keep Hercules company. He is lonely without you," he tells John.

John goes, and Gil opens a couple of bottles of fortified wine to breathe as he sets about attempting to create dinner.

He makes the pain perdu as a more filling base layer than just bread, covering it thickly with brie. For color and interest, he adds some berry preserves, before putting thick slices of grilled ham on top.

It's hodge podge, but the flavors should be excellent. He's sure his friends will enjoy the meal, and he thinks serving the pain perdu as a base layer elevates it beyond breakfast.

"Gentlemen," he calls, standing in the hallway, "Come and dine!"

Hercules and John both come from the parlor. John smiles at him, a little uncertainly. "Smells good," he says.

"I hope so," Lafayette tells him, leading the way to the table where their plates wait, along with very full wine glasses.

"Looks wonderful," Hercules tells him, taking a seat.

"Dig in! Dig in! Bonne appetit, mes amis!" Lafayette tells them eagerly.

Dinner is actually delicious. Gil is almost surprised at himself. Conversation, however, is still stilted. John seems hesitant to say anything, and Lafayette finds barbs in his words only once he's spoken them. Hercules works valiantly to keep the conversation comfortable.

Finally, Gilbert puts down his glass heavily. The other men look up at the noise. "I do not wish you to leave us," he says simply.

John toys with his fork. "I'm not really holding up my end of the bargain anymore though, am I?" he points out, apparently to a bit of ham left on his plate.

"I confess ignorance as to what bargain you imagine we have struck. I obtained lodgings. I have endeavored to fill them with people whose company is better than being alone. For all of us, I had believed," Gil tells him frankly.

"You're not exactly enjoying my company anymore though, are you?" John sneers.

Gilbert raises an eyebrow. "Do you imagine yourself my whore? Trading your body for your bed?" he asks. Beside him, he thinks Hercules is going to speak up, but before the tailor can object, John speaks.

"I can pay for my own lodgings," John tells him, nearly growling it.

"Oui. This does not mean that you wish to be alone, any more than I do. We are better together. Stronger. Happier," Gil tells him.

"I'm not yours," John tells him.

Gilbert stares at him in frank astonishment. "You are my friend. My compatriot. For the moment at least, my roommate. I have never intended to treat you as my property!"

"You don't," John admits. "You never even play at any of that. You just, what, collect stray revolutionaries?"

"Only the ones worth knowing," Gil tells him. "My leaders sent me here because they did not know what to do with me, an officer with no orientation, when they believe Dominance and leadership to be entwined so. They will not let me act yet, and so I bide my time. Good friends make the wait much more pleasant."

"I for one never feel the need to roll over for Laf," Hercules says, breaking the tension. 

They laugh at the idea of Lafayette trying to Dominate the larger man, smiling at one another.

Finally, John speaks. "You really don't mind that Aaron and I are exclusive?" he asks.

"John. Mon ami. You are so many things more important to me than a bed partner. I have enjoyed each of our encounters, but they are far from all we are to each other," Gil assures him.

"And it's not like he's hurting for company. Dude brings home more girls than I do, and a good amount of boys, too," Hercules reminds them.

"Then why are we talking about me moving out?" John asks, lifting his glass and draining it.

"Because you are too noble for your own good, John Laurens. But we will keep you anyway," Gil tells him with a smile.

They finish the two bottles of wine Laf uncorked and a third between them, winding up together in a pile of couch cushions in the parlor. Hercules somehow managed to wake first, awakening the other two with tea and quiet words before leaving for work. John and Laf wile the day away, their easy companionship restored, and when Aaron Burr joins them at the tavern the next night and brings a book, Gil manfully resists the urge to mock him. This strange little family they've built isn't perfect, and he's not entirely sure it's complete yet. But for now, he finds that he’s content with not being alone.


End file.
